


A Bullet in the Barrel

by redonthefly



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redonthefly/pseuds/redonthefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint shops at novelty stores, much to the chagrin of...everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bullet in the Barrel

**Author's Note:**

> Another edition of 'completely ridiculous, trope-tastic prompts I take from Tumblr'. Inspired by [this.](http://rowanwould.tumblr.com/post/103062315288/winterartwork-each-one-you-buy-is-a-bullet)

It's an ominous morning in the Tower when Clint Barton arrives in the communal kitchen looking  _perky_.

The Avengers, as a rule, are not morning people: Tony is clutching his own coffee like it's the only thing tethering him to his stool, and Natasha is only barely visible under an enormous sweatshirt and bathrobe, from which is she slowly and deliberately working her way around a bowl of Lucky Charms.

Steve is slumped over the counter, for all intents and purposes still trying to sleep, and he only grunts a little when Bucky, who was hovering next to him and poking halfheartedly at a bowl of fruit, digs his index finger into his ribs.

Clint bounces in, actually sashays over to the coffee maker, and reaches up into one of the upper cabinets while the pot percolates, bubbling happily on the counter. His t-shirt rides up a little while he rummages around in the cupboard, exposing a line of stomach which he scratches at absently, humming something under his breath while he pours a measure of coffee into a violently yellow mug and turns, smiling, clearly fully aware of his audience, who is staring at him with collective incredulity.

"Care to share with the class there, sunshine?" Tony asks, right at the same time Natasha says, "Spill it, Barton," and Clint grins around the lip of his drink.

“You know that novelty shop on 3rd?” He says, and his grin grows impossibly wider. “I was in there yesterday looking for a gag gift for Phil’s birthday party – “

Steve lets out something that might be a snore, and Bucky pokes him again.

“Let me stop you right there,” Tony groans. “That place is terrible. That place is actually beyond terrible, it has surpassed awful and has gone right over into tawdry.”

Natasha shoots Tony a disbelieving look and pushes back the hood of her sweatshirt, leaning forward over the counter. “What,” she says carefully, “did you find. And I swear to god Clint Barton it better not be alive.”

“It is not for Coulson; I bought him a tie,” Clint says smugly. “A _nice_ tie. Anyway, I found something better.”

The assorted superheroes share a glance around the table. Tony takes a resigned swig of coffee, Natasha sets down her spoon, and Steve lifts up his head, blinking bleary-eyed around the room. Bucky just sighs and starts peeling an orange.

Clint holds up one finger, and after a moment of digging into the pocket of his sweatpants in mock concentration, slaps down a roll of something shiny on the white counter top. “These!” He crows, stepping back to let everyone crane in for a better view, and looking proud of himself.

“I take it back, they are not tawdry, they are excellent,” Tony says after a moment, voice at a slightly higher than normal pitch. “See yah, Cap. Barton.” He clears his throat and swings off the barstool, leaving behind Natasha, who wordlessly snags one the silver packets, slips it into her pocket, and follows Tony out of the room.

Steve and Bucky turn as one, to stare, open mouthed at Clint, who is still shifting from one foot to the other, and looking delighted.

“It’s…7am.” Steve moans, dropping his head back into the cradle of his arms. “I’m not awake enough for this. I’m dreaming. I must be.”

“They’re blue,” Clint supplies gleefully. “With glitter.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just cocks his head to one side then slowly, one finger pinched delicately on the edge, begins to slide the roll toward their end of the counter.

 


End file.
